Oh Thou Blessed Mother of All Living, We wander, children who have lost our way- Guard us from all danger, and forgiving, Guide us homeward at the close of day.
'Holy Shipri, All-Mother, as Thou dost love Thine own lord, hear me now!' Gilla's murmur was lost in the hymn's sweet harmonies. 'Hear me and guide my own man back to me ...'
Here in the chapel of the Mother, flickering candles struck sparks of colour from the mosaics and one scarcely noticed the rough repairs where Vashanka's thunderbolt had cracked the wall. Gilla huddled in the shadows while the blue robed priestesses passed back and forth before the marble image of the Goddess, continuing their song.
Whatever men destroy is for Thy mending, Forever feeding from Thy fruitful breast; Thou art the source of life, and at its ending, Once more within Thy holy womb we rest.
And what if Lalo is already safe within Her arms? Gilla wondered then. Perhaps the gods need a court painter, and what does Sanctuary have to offer that could compare? She bowed her head, rocking back and forth while the chanting continued, sweetly counselling acceptance of life's eternal round of birth and death, and the tears she had so long suppressed fell like rain upon the marble floor.
The priestesses had finished and the chapel was silent when Gilla felt Vanda's touch on her shoulder and let her daughter lead her out into the harsh sunlight of Sanctuary.
'Don't tell me,' said Vanda. 'Goronesh wouldn't even see you, and those hypocrites who served Shipri told you that loss is part of the burden that women must bear.'
Gilla looked back at the golden dome of the Temple, still half-sheathed in scaffolding. 'Am I selfish to want Lalo back? I thought I was the strong one, but I need him!'
'Of course you do!' said Vanda stoutly. 'And so do we!' Her hair in the sunlight was the same bright copper Lalo's had been when he was young, but her grey eyes were troubled. Gilla swallowed the last of her tears and briskly wiped her eyes. 'You're right -I don't know what got into me!'
'And now will you come with me to see the Lady Kurrekai?' For the first time since leaving the Temple, Gilla took note other surroundings, and realized that instead of turning down the Avenue of Temples towards the town they were walking along the outer wall of the Palace Square. She sighed.
'Very well. Let us see what the foreigner can do, for it's certain I'll get no help from mage or god of Sanctuary!'
The Prince had obligingly offered rooms for the Beysa and her court in the Palace, though perhaps he was only making a virtue of necessity. Gilla wondered how they all managed to fit inside. Certainly the place seemed abustle with Beysib functionaries in laced breeks and loose doublets or the flared skirts and high collars they all affected. It seemed to her that they even outnumbered the silk-sashed Palace servants who went about their duties with such ostentatious solemnity.
Gilla looked at her daughter, already aping Beysib fashion in a gown cut down from an old petticoat of her lady's whose borders glittered with threads of gold. Whether this Beysib female was any help or no, certainly Gilla and Lalo had done a good piece of work when they used his Palace connections to get Vanda a position here. The Lady Kurrekai occupied a chamber on the second floor of the Palace, close to the roomier apartments near the roof garden, which had been taken over by the Beysa. If Gilla understood what Vanda had told her of Beysib politics, Kurrekai was a cousin of Shupansea the Queen, not in direct line for the lost Imperial throne, but royal enough to keep one of the sacred serpents and to have been trained as a priestess.
Gilla shuddered, thinking of the beynit. Enas Yorl's basilisks had been bad enough, and now she must face this imported horror. / must love that man, she thought glumly, or I would be running for home.
And then they were at the door, and the choice was gone. She smelled some kind of incense, like bitter sandalwood.
'Ah. the mother of my little friend. You are welcome ...' A voice rather deep and slightly accented greeted them. The figure that rose as they entered was tall and strongly built enough to make Gilla almost feel small. She blinked at the magnificence of the quilted petticoat, whose crimson brocade had been overlaid with gold-work until its original pattern could hardly be discerned, surmounted by panniers of deep blue cut velvet and a corset of the same material with long, tight sleeves. She had not realized before now that beneath the cloaks that Beysib noblewomen wore outside, their breasts were displayed. Kurrekai's breasts were large, firm, and bore nipples that had been intricately painted with a pattern in scarlet and gold.
'Do be seated. I will send for tea.' Lady Kurrekai clapped her hands, subsiding back on to her couch in a rustle of silk. Vanda thrust a hassock behind her mother, and Gilla, who was finding that her knees had an alarming tendency to give way, sat down gratefully.
'Your daughter has been very helpful to me,' the lady continued languidly. 'She is quick, and oh, such pretty hair.'
Vanda blushed and took the tea tray from the Beysib woman who had brought it to the door, set it on a low table of some intricately carven dark red wood, and began to pour. The tea service was made from a porcelain so fine it seemed translucent, and Gilla was abruptly conscious of the fact that she had not changed her gown since Lalo fell ill, and that her hair was coming down.
She wanted to get to the point of this visit and get out of here, but the Beysib noblewoman was inhaling the fragrance of her tea as if nothing else in the universe mattered just now. Vanda remained kneeling before her, until Kurrekai nodded and finally took one ceremonial sip; then she swivelled around to pour tea into her mother's cup and her own. Gilla tasted the brew suspiciously and found it oddly pleasant. She drank it quickly and then held her cup awkwardly in her lap while the lady, with endless deliberation, absorbed her own.
Then, finally, she sighed and set the cup down.
'My Lady,' said Vanda eagerly, 'I told you about my father's strange illness. We have found no one in this city who can bring him back, but your people are wiser than we. Will you help us now?'
'Child, your sorrow is my own, but what do you suppose I could do?' Kurrekai's head turned within the stiff collar and her slow voice held concern.
'I have heard,' Vanda swallowed and her voice went up a note, 'I have heard that the venom of the beynit has many properties ...'
'Ah, my companion,' sighed Kurrekai. She leaned back, and from within one hollow pannier appeared a flicker of crimson, followed by a slim black body as the serpent slid slowly out of hiding and coiled itself lazily in the fold of her petticoat. Gilla stared, fascinated, at the darting scarlet tongue and the jewelled eyes.
'What you say is true. The venom can be a powerful stimulant if it is properly ... changed ... But your father is not of my people. For him, only the venom's fatality would be sure.'
'But there is a chance?' All the anguish of the past three weeks met in this moment and Gilla found her voice at last. This woman must agree to help them!
'I do not wish to, kill a man of Sanctuary.' The turn of Lady Kurrekai's head held finality.
But Gilla rose, and while Vanda still stared and the Beysib woman was just beginning to look around, launched herself across the room. When she stopped, the beynit was barely a foot from her outstretched hand. The crimson head darted upward like a flame and began to sway.
'Mother, don't mover Vanda's shocked whisper hissed in the air.
Gilla remained still, now that she had reached her goal, looking for the first time directly into Lady Kurrekai's round eyes. 'And a woman of Sanctuary?' she said hoarsely. 'Why not? Lalo will die anyway and I will die too. Why not here?'